28 Solarflares
by Crystal Shekeira
Summary: G1. I'm sure you've seen it before ... 28 prompts for one character. A mishmash of timesettings and various viginettes. Some material not suited for a younger crowd!
1. Naughty Solarflare

**Author's Note: Some material in these very short stories are not intended for younger readers. If you're offended by inter-robot relations (aka "interfacing"), I suggest you back up and go to another, more palatable venue. :D These tales are clearly marked by either title or in a short note. The reader should consider all material, unless otherwise noted, part of the _Solarflare Chronicles_ canon.**

**Naughty Solarflare  
**_Featuring Prowl_

Slowly, she unwound the silky blue and white scarf from around her neck and looped it in generous folds along the white-and-black's neck.

"Solarflare …" he breathed, optics wide and flashing complicated equations as his battle computer struggled to process this unfamiliar information.

A wicked grin stretched from audio to audio on the avian femme's sharp-planned face. She responded by tightening the band around Prowl's neck. "Say it again, _commander_. This time with a little more feeling," she fairly purred, holding the scarf with one hand and running her other down his chest, talons out.

Air rattled in his ventilators. "_Solarflare_."

"Flare," she pronounced, winding the scarf up until it was snug against his neck cords.

"_Flare_," he repeated obediently, fingers twitching. He had to hold himself back, this was Mirage's bondmate! The self-same mech who had given him a thinly-veiled threat regarding the consequences in relation to coming near her again in anything less than a professional capacity.

Her gold optics searched his, and she stood on her toes, lip components at his chin. "Come, Prowl. It's all right. I swear. It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Loyalty, honor, compassion, patience. He'd wait her out.

But there was no denying the avian femme. Using scarf and claws, she pulled him close, black lips locking onto his, teeth biting hard.

"Fll-aarr-rrrre …" he moaned, digging his fingers into her plating, pulling her short, thin form to his chest.

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"Have that on tape?" Sunstreaker asked his brother.

Sideswipe laughed quietly. "Oh, slag yeah. This is gonna be good, man."

The yellow warrior smirked. "Who'd'a thought ol' Prowl talks in recharge?"


	2. Happy Solarflare

**Happy Solarflare**

Could it be? Flare could hardly believe her audios as the rumor flitted down the lines.

She stood among hundreds of Autobot warriors waiting outside the great Elder Council Hall in Iacon, Mirage on her left, Hound on her right. "Are they coming out?" she whispered to Mirage.

"Seems so," her bondmate replied, tilting his head from side to side, trying to see over the hulking shoulders of the reserve troops.

"Someone shove her on Grimmy's shoulders," Sunstreaker griped. "I wanna see, slaggit."

Before Flare could get a word in edgewise, Mirage and Hound were lifting her, wings and all, up onto the broad shoulders of the Dinobot Grimlock. The great grey T.Rex rumbled low. "What birdie doing on me, Grimlock's, shoulders? I no perch for canary."

Swaying as Grimlock shifted, Solarflare clutched at his body with her bulky lower legs, trying to stay on. "Oh, lighten up, Grim," Sunstreaker shot back. "You should be happy; it's not often she wraps her legs around someone other than Mirage. Flare, lob that pad of yours down."

Turning, the grey femme ejected her vid-pad from her upper right thigh and reached backwards to drop it in Mirage's waiting hands. Twisting back around, she settled herself more properly on Grimlock's shoulders; it might have been the occasion, for the huge soldier voiced no other opinion about being regulated to "perch" status. Raising her head, Flare gazed out across the thousands of Autobots gathered to hear the news they had hoped for weeks would come, right after Optimus had destroyed Galvatron at the gates to Iacon. She zoomed right up to the great Primus-head doors of the wrecked chambers, waiting, waiting.

The Autobots' patience was well-rewarded. Slowly, the great doors were pushed open and Optimus Prime stepped out into the cool night air. Immediately, a cheer swelled from the back and pushed its way to the front. Various chants erupted on the fringes; Flare found herself shrieking some phrase that she had no concept of, other than it was _good_.

"AUTOBOTS!"

Prime's sonorous voice carried wide and far, instantly silencing the warriors. "We have PEACE."

Grimlock jumped up, roaring for all he was worth. In the process, Flare was thrown backwards, landing in the arms of Mirage and Hound. But she did not care. It was OVER.

**OVER**.

Laughing uproariously, she jumped to her feet, grabbing any mech in the immediate area. _Peace_.

Oh, it was so _good_.


	3. Silly Solarflare

**Silly Solarflare  
**_Featuring Powerglide_

It was definitely in there. Solarflare gently peeled back Powerglide's armor with her talons, one optic boring a hole into the crevice.

"Ow! Careful back there, will ya, Flare?"

She merely chuckled. "I told you not to try it, but you did it anyway."

The red jet huffed, shifting from side to side in order to get more comfortable. In the end, he crossed his legs, Buddha-style, and folded his arms petulantly. "Hey, if you had both Starscream and Thundercracker ready to make a not-so-nice contact with _your_ afterburner, you'd do the same."

The femme struggled to keep a straight face as the Minibot continued to defend his actions. "Well, I had Thrust and Ramjet. Hold _still_, Glide!"

"They're stupid," he groused. Flare tapped him on the top of his nosecone, then got back to digging. "OW!"

"I told you, hold still. Listen to me, will you?"

And Powerglide replied as all mechs of the Ark did when she asserted concern or displayed aggression: "You're a damned mother hen, you know that, Flare? –YOW!"

"Mother hen this, warplane-fodder."

"Charcoal-chicken.

"Oo, imaginative," she laughed, waving the offending object in the jet's face. A sorry – dead – squirrel. Powerglide's masked face displayed the most curious reaction: it jittered in place while his blue optics widened. If it were ever possible for something that was mostly metallic.

"G-get that away!"

Flare drew her head back, crest arched high over her nasal ridge. "What?" She turned the poor carcass with her fingertips. "The Ark strutter scared of a little sky-kill?"

Powerglide rose quickly, tripping up over his bulky lower legs. "I'm not jokin' Flare! Throw it away!"

Laughing, the grey femme got up and followed, chasing old Powerglide around the smoky glen with the dead squirrel swinging from her fist.


	4. Angsty Solarflare

**Angsty Solarflare  
**Featuring Ironhide

"What do you mean – they wouldn't let him sign?"

On-screen, Ironhide offered a shrug, the motion stiff, as if he were still working out the kinks in a brand-new body. Well, that was the case – not long ago, he and Ratchet, Wheeljack, Windcharger, Brawn and Prowl had been snatched from the belly of Primus and resurrected by the Quintessons. "Don't go wild on me, Flare, Ah'm just th' messenger."

Slowly, she shook her head in disbelief. "But – but he did it! He saved their sorry hides, Ironhide!"

"Ah know, sweetheart. We all know. But Ah guess that's how them politicking fellas do it."

Lowering her head, Flare gnawed at her lower lip, rage at the newly reestablished Elders bubbling behind her optics. How could they? After all that Prime sacrificed, after all his warriors had sacrificed? How could they push him aside? It wasn't fair! Not fair at all!

On-screen, Ironhide reached out and tapped the lens. "Ah'll be goin', Flare. We'll be back t'Earth soon enough." The old rusty warrior gave a half-hearted smile. "We'll have a party then, eh?"

Shoulders hunched, all she could do was nod. Ironhide cut the connection himself, leaving a swatch of static across the view screen of Autobot City's comm room. Had it been just months before that she and the others stood victorious on Cybertron, celebrating with Optimus? Had he not emerged triumphant from the council ruins with the news that the Great War was finally over?

With a low rumble of her vocalizer, Flare yanked her connecting plug from the console and stalked away, down to the rec room with the news. Party? No, there'd be no party – unless the Twins wanted to organize a head-hunting expedition. She'd be right there with them, because this was a very, very sorry "thank you" for saving your pansy skidplate …


	5. On Vacation Solarflare

**On-Vacation Solarflare**

"No, no, Illusion, come back here."

Solarflare struggled not to laugh as she dipped her toes in the warm Mediterranean waters, arched her back and let the Grecian sun fall on her monochromatic armor. On her right, Spectrum was using an Autobot-sized pail and shovel to make a lopsided sandcastle. The avian femme grinned as her spark-daughter's piercing shriek of joy cut through the idyllic air, followed by Mirage's grunts as he chased her up and down the beach -- all in fun, of course.

Peace was nice, so very, VERY nice.

"Momma, look."

Flare twisted slightly so that she still kept the sun on her crest, arching one brow ridge to peer at her son's newest construction. She smiled. "Looks wonderful, honey. Are you going to add a moat?"

Spectrum pouted, his face a mixture of avian sharpness and Tower nobility. "Metroplex doesn't have a moat, Momma."

The grey femme blinked, leaned forward to peer at it more closely. Well, if you could call a six foot lump of white-gold sand "Metroplex" ... She reached out and flicked her spark-son's nose. "Of course, sweetie. But, Metroplex could ... if he went to England. Remember those castles that Chromedome teaches about in school?"

Spectrum's face screwed up as he strove to remember the scientist's words. "Yeah, I guess so." He turned around to stick his shovel back in, then looked over his shoulder. "Can we go to England, Momma?"

Flare purred, wrapping her arms around her spiked knees. "One vacation at a time, Spec. Daddy's credits might be coming in fast, but we still need to save up for our Tower estate."

Spectrum considered this adult matter, then promptly forgot about it as the lure of the sand proved too much for him. Solarflare's smile only stretched wider, and she reclined once more, taking in the sight of Illusion and her spy splashing around in the clear blue ocean. Yes, she needed this vacation ...


	6. Horny Solarflare

**Horny Solarflare  
**Featuring Sunstreaker

The wind blowing off the lake caught the edge of Solarflare's scarf and blew it gently across her face. She clutched at the rail, looking down and out at the pristine waters; she sighed softly and leaned forward. She knew how important Mirage's trips to Cybertron were, now that peace had finally settled about the Universe. They had agreed that he make long journeys alone to recalibrate his long-lost fortunes, as well as oversee the construction of their new Tower estate.

"If anyone approaches you – I don't care who – take them up on it. You shouldn't be alone, Alina," he had said so many moons ago, when he first left with Grapple and Hoist.

She had looked at him, a twinge of her fading humanity conjuring up images of his old past, of his wild days and thin, lanky femmes. "And you?"

He took her by the waist, laying his lips to her neck. "If you don't want to, I won't. We pledged equality. But remember, you are the one I am coming home to; no one will hold me down if I don't want them to."

In the end, she agreed to the arrangement, but approached no one, though her nights were decidedly colder.

"Tell me," a familiar voice declared, "why do you continue to wear those slaggin' scarves? I thought you gave up your humanity vons ago."

Flare lifted her head and turned around to see Sunstreaker standing behind her, his beefy hands planted on his tiny hips. "Call it a fashion statement, Sunshine," she retorted with half of her old humor. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

He sniffed and walked forward with his usual self-assured stride to stop by her side. "I came up to cannibalize more of Teletraan's old parts. What about you? Tryin' to drown your sorrows?" The melee warrior sniffed louder, more emphatically. "I told you, time and again, baby, he ain't worth it."

She gave him a wry smile and turned around, wings and crest low. "And I told you, Sunny, you can't have me."

A paw the size of her head folded around her upper arm, right under her strut. Sunstreaker whirled her around until she was facing him. "I don't _want_ you," he growled. "But that doesn't mean I can't use you for a while, while he's gone."

Outraged, she tore herself out of his grasp. "How dare you," she hissed, crest flat.

Sunstreaker planted his fists on his hips, towering over her. "Okay, so my romance factor is in the negatives. Listen, Flare, your playboy let it slip about your arrangement to a few of us he knows you're close to. I can't use any nice words, but I'm saying if you want to have a quick interface –" and he mimed the human equivalent with a fist and palm "—then I'm your mech. If not, rot cold while he's away." A feral grin split his classic face. "Besides, once you do me, you'll never want him again."

As Flare looked at him, the raw edge of desire began to gnaw at the back of her cortex. For the first time, she took Sunny in – not as a friend and comrade – but as whatever lowlife on Cybertron might have done. The melee warrior quirked his lip components in a self-satisfied manner, knowing fully well that she was cataloguing his high points and low points. He preened on the spot, turning so that the sun reflected nicely off his golden armor plating.

Dropping her optics, she looked over her shoulder at the tail end of the scarf blowing in the warm summer breeze. When she looked back up, Sunstreaker was looming over her. "Last chance, baby. I ain't asking you again."

Biting her lip, Solarflare smiled. "You always ask."

"But that's playing. This is serious."

She felt her hands rising of their own accord, to brush across Sunstreaker's chest. The smirk he wore was slowly slipping into something different – tender? "Are you ever serious, Sunny?"

"Maybe. You just don't know me that well."

A low purr started in the back of Flare's throat and reached outwards, slowly vibrating the tips of her struts. "I think I do."

With a grunt, Sunstreaker lifted her off the ground and deftly wrapped her pyramidal legs around his waist before propping her tail end against the railing. "Enough talk, bitch." He wasn't prepared for her reaction; alone, the tension in her body had built up so that she attacked him as a powerful formel, raking her talons deep along his shoulders the instant their lips touched. Flare surprised herself with the sheer force of her pent-up ardor, forgetting everything but the way his hands clutched at her waist, at her tail, the way he simply drove himself into her mind.

Their unique vibrations rattled along their bodies, across to each other. Sunny crushed her pelvis to his own groin guard, pulling a thick cord from a compartment at his waist. Metal scraped and screamed as sharp points and round curves mashed over and over again. His hands crawled over her body, searching for the corresponding port that would allow the most deep of connections two Transformers could ever have, short of spark-bonding. Finding it in short time – he was a pro – Sunstreaker slammed the cord home, pushing both he and Flare over the edge, and on their way to peace.


	7. Transforming Solarflare

**Transforming-Solarflare  
**Featuring Laserbeak.

Smoke poured down her throat, clogging her ventilators. Flare's Energon pump seized; she could feel her systems slowly start to overheat with the lack of air regulation. He was going to smother her into termination!

She struggled upright, crying soundlessly as her busted right leg squealed and buckled under her. Damn you, Condor! she thought angrily up at the sky, wherever that stupid bird was. Each motion brought more smoke into her "lungs", the slower her actions became. Was this going to be IT?

Laser fire thudded into the clouded ground at her feet, threw her off balance yet again. She hit the ground with a loud crunch. Oh, damn, there goes my chestplate, she thought morosely. A bullet grazed her cheek, drew a thin bead of coolant down her sharp-planed face, trickled into her neck guard. Coughing, Solarflare reached for her pistol, cortex sluggish from lack of ventilation. She felt uncomfortably warm, overheated warm.

Half-crawling, half dragging her ruined body across the rocky ground, she made her way to the edge of the smoke-cloud. Freedom. Inky blackness rolled from her mouth as if she were in the final stages of an exorcism. Clean, fresh air filled her, cooled her hot frame. With clear golden optics, she spotted him -- Laserbeak, her bane. As she watched, the Condor turned away, perhaps believing her taken care of. And that was a mistake.

Flare crawled further, taking quick stock of her injuries. Nothing a good session with Ratchet wouldn't cure. Still. Laserbeak wheeled, apparently not done with her as she had suspected. The Condor's grey beak opened in a raucous challenge, laser fire spitting from each fuchsia optic.

TRANSFORM! her cortex screamed. Metal scraped on metal, pain flared hard in the front of her mind like a double-Twin sledgehammer. Solarflare ripped into eaglemode, bits and pieces of her armor slothing off her body in protest. She flew to meet the Decepticon, her own optic lasers firing. Laserbeak drew back when he saw her rise, as cowardly as ever. "C'mon!" she shrieked, common sense going out the back door as the battle fervor took her. Away he streaked, further and further away, perhaps to take advantage of a more grounded foe.

Flare laughed, and turned on her inner pinion, back to the Autobots.


	8. Excited Solarflare

**Excited Solarflare  
**Featuring Mirage

The slow, rocking motion of the shuttle was enough to lull her into an easy state of recharge. However, as soon as she shuttered her optics, it seemed that they had landed. At her side, Mirage shifted; the lanky spy sat up, curling one black hand over her own. "We're here, Flare."

"At the Towers?" she replied, instantly awake.

He grinned. "Nearly. We're at the spaceport. I've got a hopper waiting for us."

"You're not going to blindfold me, are you?" she asked as they stood up with the other passengers and shuffled out the door.

The Ligier laughed, curling an arm around her waist as they descended the ramp and stepped out into a new Cybertron – a peaceful, free Cybertron, all gold and gleaming structures. "How can I surprise you if you see it coming?"

"Fine." With a grin, she loosened her scarf and wrapped it around her own optics. "Lead me away, sir." She felt him take her by the elbow and gently guide her along the tarmac. Her other senses, instinct-fueled as they were, aided in making sure she didn't trip over her own large pyramidal feet and fall flat on her feathered rump in front of these other high-priced folk. Mirage led her a ways from the shuttle, and then helped her into what she suspected was the rented hopper. Neither of them said a thing, but she could hear Mirage's low chuckle as he powered the craft up.

Flare jiggled in her seat. This was the day she'd been waiting for, for a long time now. Mirage had sent no pictures to her and the sparklings during the whole construction process. He only said that it was going to be everything that they had wanted – and more.

She passed the time by humming to herself, softly and tunelessly, turning her head to glance blindly out the window, audios picking up the sounds of high-density traffic, then … silence.

"Almost there," her spy said at one point, before falling into silence.

A few clicks later, the engines began to whine, heralding a descent. With a whoosh of hydraulics and the hiss of pneumatics, they were down. Solarflare practically fell out of the hopper when Mirage hauled the door open. He laughed, righting her and maneuvering her body so that she would get the best possible view of whatever it was that sat before her.

"Ready?"

Bouncing on her toes, she swiped playfully at him. "Take it off!"

Slowly, teasingly, the scarf fell away from her optics. Gleaming shafts of pure white assailed her sensors, all swooping curves and spinning minarets. Flying buttresses coupled with amazing Transformer technology had produced every girl's dream.

Flare gaped. And gaped some more.

Mirage grinned and looped his arm around her waist. "I know, it's a little rough, but I figured I needed your opinion as to what kind of trees and grass to plant in the courtyard. And what animals to import."

With wide optics, she goggled at him. "Plants? Animals? Take me inside!"

Laughing, Mirage of the Towers took his wild avian femme into high society.


	9. Book Reading Solarflare

**Book-Reading Solarflare  
**Featuring Mirage

Her neighbors were working again; Alina sighed and tried to shove the buds of her Walkman deeper into her ears to drown out the sounds of construction. She and the Walters had an affable relationship, but their tendency to constantly upgrade their abode was the one straining point – at least for her. Curling up on her side in her lawn chair, the young woman picked her book up once more, pulled the pen from behind her ear and set about reading.

"Ever stop?" a low, cultured voice whispered before her.

Alina's skin twitched, about all the reaction Mirage would get out of her these days. Before, he would nearly scare her shitless, with his disembodied voice, or sudden emergence from whatever plane he inhabited while invisible. Now, she had come to accept his presence as an every day occurrence, because that was what it was.

By the fence where the construction was coming from, plants rippled and swayed; the grass flatted itself as a large, bulky body sat down.

"What, reading?" she replied, completely unfazed as to be addressing the air. "Not in my line of work."

The Autobot spy Mirage ripped into the visible spectrum: first the edge of his blue shoulder, followed by his pharaonic head, down to his lean chest and beyond. He was sitting cross-legged as usual, body tilted to keep his head low from prying eyes over the fence. It didn't hurt that Alina had several creeping vines and tall, dense trees on her border.

"What is it?" he asked, shifting to get more comfortable.

"This?" She turned the small volume in her hand. "_Paradise Lost_."

He quirked his grey lip components, reaching out and plucking it from her grasp. Peering myopically at it, the spy turned it around, then handed it back to her. "Doesn't seem particularly enlightening."

She smiled. "That's because it deals with an Earth religion. You should read it sometime. I think you'd like it."

The spy chuckled low. "Maybe. We'll see."


	10. Dancing Solarflare

**Dancing Solarflare  
**Featuring Jazz and Blaster

It was a cool, crisp night, perfect for stargazing. Solarflare wheeled and descended, aiming her black beak for the wide steel building at the edge of an old wharf. Pump-pounding music poured from every crack in the joint, bright electronic lights flaring out and onto the unpaved street below. A Porsche sat idling outside; once she touched down, it unfolded and straightened into Jazz's unmistakable form. A second later, a boom box that had been sitting by the door transformed into Blaster.

Jazz grinned. "You're late, babydoll."

Flare stood up, flicking her wings back. "I couldn't find my glows-sticks; they weren't where I left them last time. I guess Mirage cleaned a bit." She chuckled, then reached into a subspace pocket to pull forth a string of glowsticks, which she then began expertly winding around her body.

Blaster laughed. "Can't get the old stick to join us?"

"He said his first would be his last, but you can keep on trying if you want," she returned, tossing a string of purple and green around her neck guard. "Well, I'm ready."

Jazz held the door open for the two of them, and they entered a whole new world: one of intense, pulsing beats, strong bass and hundreds of human bodies writhing in time. Unlike that mythical "first time", the human crowd was expecting them. There were three Transformer-sized crates and a large slab in the corner for them to sit down, as well as a larger, more reinforced DJ's table, in case Blaster wanted to join in the fun. He usually did, claiming that while he had the groove, it was more in his cortex than in his feet.

Immediately, Jazz pulled Solarflare to the middle of the dance floor. The DJ spotted them – how could he not? – and cranked the volume to a point where their armor began to rattle. Flare felt all her cares melt away as she lifted her arms and swayed. No war, no worries, just her friends and the music.


	11. Jealous Solarflare

**Jealous Solarflare  
**Featuring Strata

Optics narrowed, Solarflare watched with growing resentment as the red-gold gilder-femme strolled into the training room of Autobot City. She crossed hesitantly, head turning this way and that before she zeroed in on Mirage hanging off the ropes, chatting amicably with Prowl.

**WHACK!**

Biting her lip, Flare staggered upright, her forearms shaking from the sting of the blow. "It's not like you to daydream, Flare," Sunstreaker chastised, spinning the staff with his right hand. "Pay attention! Guard up, girl."

Flare backed up, lifting her staff in response to his command, but she couldn't keep her optics off the way the other femme was looking at Mirage. She had slipped from the avian's corner and was quietly making her way to where the spy was.

Sunstreaker looked up, ready to bark out another vicious command, when a slow smile crossed his face. Giving a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw it. Despite appearances, he was quite observant, and he'd noticed a certain tension between the senior and the junior. Neither publicly acknowledged it, preferring to affect a gloomy exterior in each others' presence.

The golden warrior sighed and shook his head. It was like Solarflare and Mirage all over again. Well, he wouldn't let this drag out any more than it had to. Flare'd forgive him; it was in her nature. Besides, he could always tell her he was looking out for her—little sister thing, he supposed. Femmes liked being told that. ... Well, she did anyway; Sunny never had a relationship with a femme extend into that region before.

"Hold on, Flare."

Solarflare lowered her staff, tilting her head to the side quizzically. "What?"

Sunny walked over to the ropes and ducked under, dropping his staff to the floor. "I'm getting you a new sparring partner." He glanced over his shoulder, watching Flare's crest sweep backwards until it was flat against her skull, eyes wide. "You. Strata. Get your aft up here."

"No, Sunny –" Solarflare began, shaking her head as Strata turned around, wearing a similar expression. Then, very slowly, a smile lit the other femme's face and she nodded, walking toward the ring. "Sunny ..."

The golden warrior silenced her with a raised hand. "Believe me. Now, up you get, she-bot. Here, take my staff. I'm going to coach you two through a round or two."

There was a loud explosion of air and a clank as Solarflare dropped her staff. It rolled passed her feet to the other corner of the ring. "I refuse!"

Strata had finished climbing through the ropes and stood there, Sunstreaker's staff in her hand, arms spread wide. "Why?" she asked innocently, too purely.

"I won't play party to your schemes, Sunstreaker," Solarflare rumbled, crest flat. With another snort, she walked off, jumping the ropes and striding out of the training room.


	12. Turned On Solarflare

**Turned-On Solarflare  
**Featuring Mirage

Tiredly, Solarflare staggered down the corridor to her room. Her wings fairly ached; enough so that she feared they would fall off if she even tried to move them. So they dragged behind her, making an awful screeching noise as the tips grazed the eye-sore orange tile. Fourteen hours in the air – how could Powerglide stand it?

Oh, that's right – his wings weren't loaded with tons of acute sensors. And when he transformed, they disengaged from his mind, not like her own, which remained connected to her core consciousness. Perhaps she should have taken that shower, but she feared that if she went under, she wouldn't get up, and whomever was on patrol the next day would find her snoring amongst the wax and soap.

Talons skimming the wall in an effort to remain standing, Flare finally reached her destination. She had enough strength to punch the access code and slip through the door before it was even all the way open. Mirage looked up as she entered, his feet propped up on the low table, a reader in one hand. He immediately set these aside and rose quickly to catch her as the grey femme spun around and almost fell backwards onto the couch.

"Whoa. Are you all right, Flare?"

"Trr'd," she mumbled into the crook of his arm, feeling almost boneless. "F'teen h'rs."

The Ligier smiled softly, gathering his bondmate into his arms, lifting her up and carrying her with ease to the couch. Somehow, he managed to turn her about so that she was sitting in his lap, facing away. With gentle hands, he began to soothe away the sores in her plating, alleviate the servo-weariness that was nearly spark-deep.

At first, all she could think about was how good it felt to not feel the minute details of her armor. Mirage's slim black hands, his noble hands, were working their usual magic. Slowly, the aches and pains went away, and she could feel her tiredness fade into nothingness; her spine straightened, as did her wings. And then his hands were gone.

Surprised, she turned, arching her brow ridge quizzically. "Don't stop," she implored.

Mirage tilted his head and grinned in that endearing way of his. "Just wanted to see if you were still conscious."

Playfully, she squirmed in his lap. "Of course."

"Then turn around."

She did as she was told. This time, when his hands came back, they were reaching around to her front, easing across her holsters and running teasingly along her hips. He leaned forward, resting his chin on her right strut, his lips nipping at the piece of her helm that curved around her jaw.

"Raj …" she breathed.

"Quiet," he whispered in her audio, slipping one hand between her legs, the other reaching up towards her chestplate. "I'm doing all the work tonight."

Suddenly, she wasn't tired anymore. Pulsing pleasure energy flew through her circuits; she moaned, arching against his hands. He was so damn good, that spy of hers. Reaching over, she hit the light sensor, plunging them into total darkness and let him have his way with her.


	13. Caring Solarflare

**Caring Solarflare  
**With Windcharger

Illusion whimpered and Solarflare shifted the sparkling so that she sat more comfortably on her lap. "You were saying, Charger?"

Across the café table in one of Iacon's new metropolitan districts, Windcharger smiled, taking a sip of his Energon. "Just commenting on the fact that you've taken to parenthood so well, Flare. You and Mirage."

She chuckled, jiggling Illusion so that the small white femme cooed. "I guess it's just some residual humanity left in me," she offered.

"Naw. Back before the War, we used to see families in the southern states – not to mention Lithone. And didn't Mirage say that some of the elites have them, too?"

Flare nodded, using her free hand to partake of her refined oil. "He had a 'mother', though he didn't refer to her as that until we started speaking of spark-fusion. And a 'father', too."

The old Minibot grinned. "There you go. Mind passing her to me? I'm afraid I don't get down to Autobot City much lately, what with the construction projects popping up all over the place."

Illusion tossed her spark-mother a wide-opticed glance as she was handed over to Windcharger. "Shh, it's all right, baby. Only Uncle Windy," Solarflare soothed. Illusion looked back and then up at Windcharger's affable smile. Instantly, her face lit up and she began to hum with pleasure.

"It's amazing," the warrior breathed, bouncing the small femme on his knee. "You could have produced a fully-functional Transformer, yet you chose to let them develop as organics. Amazing."

She grinned. "That was the point. What's the fun in being a family if your kids can walk off and leave you minutes after creation?"

"True." Illusion reached out and pinched the red-grey mech's nose. He laughed, fiddling with her fingers. "I know your estate is done; when are you moving in?"

Waving back at her daughter, Flare tipped her head. "Well, the exterior is finished. Mirage said Grapple and Hoist have a few more things to work on. Then we have the grounds to develop." She chuckled. "At least Raj'll be home during that time. It's going to be a while, and we want Spectrum and Illusion to 'grow up' on Earth, first."

"Ah, I see."

Solarflare laughed. "Not exactly the Cybertronian approach, but then again, I never was, was I, Charger?"

"No, never, Flare. –Hey, leggo, you little Decepticon fiend," he mock-snarled as Illusion made another grab – and got – his nasal ridge in her small taloned grasp.

Flare purred and settled back into her chair, watching the new life of Iacon walk by in freedom and peace.


	14. On Her Knees Solarflare

**On-Her-Knees Solarflare  
**With Shockwave and Megatron. NOT cannon, _ever_.

A length of chain ran from the thick collar at her neck, down along the floor to a ring embedded into the wall. Solarflare swayed on her feet, trying to stem the pain coming from the area where her wings used to be. Sparks still spat in occasional spurts from her back, raining down in cool golden arcs.

"You will remain standing," an emotionless voice intoned from behind. A light purple hand gripped her strut with bruising force, enough to make her cry out in pain. "No speaking unless you are spoken to."

Fear raced through her cortex as a shadow along one wall formed itself into Megatron's towering grey bulk. "So," he hissed, "this is the illustrious Solarflare, Starscream's bane. Get her on her knees, Shockwave."

"Yes, Lord Megatron."

Hard, cold pain slammed into Flare's shoulders. Metal cried out, as did she, at the incredible pressure. Down she went, falling face-first into Megatron's foot. Almost delicately, the Decepticon commander lifted her chin with his toe, pressed it against her throat, choking her. "You will pay, little Solarflare." The foot lifted back, then moved forward. Flare flew backwards against Shockwave, a trickle of coolant flowing from her broken lip components.

Hacking, her hands bound, Flare tipped forward, going into the tile. Shockwave's none-too-gentle hand was there, digging and piercing her plating like it was cheese. "Up on your knees."

Through pain-crazed optics, Solarflare looked up and saw Megatron moving towards her yet again, a large, fat cable dangling from his waist, the end curled in his hand. Solarflare's cortex was like a rat jacked-up on cocaine, spinning in all directions but the proper one. Out of the corner of her optic, she saw a similar cable coming from Shockwave's torso.

"NO!"


	15. Obediant Solarflare

**Obedient Solarflare  
**Featuring Optimus Prime

"You were warned about bating Red Alert, Solarflare."

Crest low, she could not look the tall commander in the optic. She had royally screwed up this time. How often had either Prowl or Ironhide mentioned that she should be careful about goading the security director? Of course, she had ignored them, thinking that since everyone else seemed to get away with it, and that Red's explosiveness was merely vindictive.

She had been wrong. She had flipped the red and white Lamborghini off one too many times.

"Aye, sir," she mumbled.

Large blue feet shuffled along the bright orange tile that she was currently staring at with intense concentration. "As much as it pains me, I am obligated to remind you that you are not special, Solarflare. You are no longer new at this base, and thus I expect the same level of performance – and respect – from you as I do all the others. Am I clear?"

"Aye, sir."

The blue feet shifted. "Two weeks punishment detail. You will report to Prowl first thing in the morning to clean the outer rim weapons. Understood?"

"Aye, sir."

"Dismissed, Solarflare."


	16. Dominant Solarflare

**Dominant Solarflare  
**Featuring Arcee and Blaster

"_Sectors Five through Eight clear …"_

"**Visibility on the eastern seaboard is 10 miles. A low fog will be rolling in overnight, with temperatures plunging to 40° Fahrenheit …"**

"**And the Red Sox sweep the Yankees with an impressive 15-6 win. What a day in Boston …"**

"_Two Decepticons spotted leaving New York Harbor. Will trail. Confirm, Solarflare?"_

"_Confirmed, and noted, Prowl."_

"**Campbell's soup is mm-mm-good …"**

"Blasted commercials …"

"Excuse me." A pause. "I said, excuse me." Arcee frowned, looking down at the slight grey femme perched over the console, a thin black wire running from her jaw right into the computer. Perturbed, she reached down and jerked the cable.

That was a mistake. Screaming bloody murder, Solarflare shot backwards, sparks flying from her lower jaw and the console. Stunned, Arcee looked around as an alarm began blaring. A few seconds later, Blaster came rushing into the tower room; he took one look at the situation and slammed his fist against a panel set in the wall. Immediately, the alarm died.

On the floor, Solarflare was writhing in obvious pain. "Zzz-ho-zzw d-d-dare yzz-ou," she spluttered, talons digging deep into the annoying orange tile of the tower. Her body contorted as another electrical shock wound through it.

Horrified, Arcee stepped back, hand at mouth. "W-what'd I do?" she asked Blaster.

The other communications officer knelt at Solarflare's side, but did not touch her. He looked up at the pink femme. "You pulled her cord out."

"Yes, but –"

Moaning, Flare rolled up, talons still stuck tight to the tiles. "N-never. EVER. Do that again! You could've fried my cortex!"

Arcee was definitely confused. "But – how? All I wanted was her attention!"

Brow ridge low, the grey femme stared defiantly at the pink Autobot. "There's a buzzer for that!" Coughing, she hacked, spitting out a golden spark. "Oh, slag."

"Well, I didn't know!"

"It's on the fraggin' wall!" With a quivering talon-tip, Solarflare pointed behind her, right next to her workstation; sure enough, there was a large sign that outlined the procedure for disturbing her while working:

Step 1: (Arcee mouthed) Hit buzzer.  
Step 2: Engage shoulder if buzzer does not work.  
Step 3: Shake harder.  
Step 4: Blow up console (scribbled in black magic marker)

"Flare," Blaster said, gently rolling up her cord, "I think you should see First Aid. I'll take over from here."

Shooting the pink femme a murderous glance, Solarflare staggered to her feet, wings askew. "Notes are on my desk," she coughed before trudging out the door.


	17. Naive Solarflare

**Naïve Solarflare  
**With Mirage

In the darkness, two pairs of glowing optics, dimmed for the sake of romanticism, fluttered.

"Teach me," she breathed, running her hands over his bare shoulders, "tell me how to love you."

The noblemech spy chuckled warm and low, passing his lips over her crest, then down the curve of her helm to her lips. "I think … that you should be the one to teach me."

His slim fingers, made for the finer things in life, not war, slipped over her shoulders, down to her waist, pressing her gently against the wall. Part of her cortex that still remembered sex as a human drove her leg upwards, arching around his thigh, bringing his groin guard into contact with her lower torso.

"I know nothing," she whispered against his lips.

A deep, sensuous laugh rolled from his vocalizer as he parted her lip components, slipped his taste sensor into her mouth. "I think ... you'll find … that it's not … all that … different."

Pleasure that she had not felt in ages wormed its way into her living metal body. While some of the responses she had been used to were not transferable to titanium plating, everything else was the same. Finding this as such, she found herself able to return Mirage's caresses with some of her own.

"You're everything I've ever wanted," he moaned, increasing the pressure so that she began to rise up against the wall. Armor plating scraped and howled against armor plating, creating a resonance that would have been horrible to human ears, but as erotic as flesh-on-flesh sounds and sensations.

Her reply could not be put into words, spoken or otherwise. Transformer she might now be, but she was still all female.


	18. Drinking Energon Solarflare

**Drinking-Energon Solarflare  
**Featuring … a pole

Slag, the Twins really made a good drink when they got their act together. Life was pretty rosy right now, and she felt like she loved everyone and everything in it. She supposed if Megatron came busting through the door, she might as well have humped his leg like a puppy. _Isn't he dead?_

_Maybe they poisoned me_, she thought wryly, grinning like a moron.

_Love potion number nine … la-lalala …_

_Normally_, the sane, reasonable part of her cortex spoke up, _you don't drink – and this is way too much._

_But it's a party! We won the slaggin' war!_

_Oh, fine._

"Well, Flare, don't you look happy. Wanna dance?"

Tilting her head to the side, Solarflare grinned like a fool. "Sure." Something was pressed into her hands – or she was, there wasn't much she could tell right now. It was so smooth and cool; it reminded her of her favorite body part on Mirage. Around and around she spun, watching Rainbow Brite and Starlite dance on a rainbow that sprouted from between Sunstreaker's fins.

"Whee! 'Love me like a bomb, c'mon baby get it on!' "

----------------------------------------------------------

Jazz folded his arms. "Yer bad, boys," he noted, watching the senior femme spin around the structural support. All around, Autobots were passed out drunk, or in the final stages of becoming unconscious. He winced as Flare did a most improper motion against the thick brass pole and turned away.

"Shut up, Jazz. I'm trying to film this."


	19. Greedy Solarflare

**Greedy Solarflare  
**With Mirage, Prowl and Sunstreaker. NOT canon.

She could hardly believe what was happening to her. Perhaps that was because her cortex was overloading with the ton of sensual information that was being fed her way. Three lines into one body – oh, Primus!

Mirage held her from behind, his slim, gentle hands biting so lovingly into her armor. His teeth were set into the side of her helm, and his low grunts of pleasure wracked her body. She had no idea what Sunstreaker and Prowl were doing, because she couldn't open her optics! Three on one seemed such a far-off thing, but they were managing … oh, how they were managing!

"Greedy little Solarflare," someone muttered, running their fingers over her lower torso, snaking between her legs.

Oh, yes, greedy little Solarflare …


	20. Daring Solarflare

**Daring Solarflare  
**Featuring Powerglide

Smoke trailed generously from the small red jet's tail section, billowing in the wind and curving in the air as a dragon upon the clouds. Purple laser-fire blew holes through those self-same clouds, trying to reach the grey-white-black metallic eagle that was hiding within.

Panic filled her as she watched Powerglide fall; there was just so much ammunition being thrown her way! But she knew one thing for certain: either let her comrade die, or become Swiss cheese attempting to save him.

A long burst of laser-fire cut through her cover, slicing one black pinion. Flare spun in mid-air, keen audios picking up the sound of supersonic jet turbines coming her way. It was now or never.

"Maximum burn to boosters," she ordered her internal computer.

Power thrummed through her whole being as her system complied. As a whole, she felt lighter – save for her boosters, which became heavier. With a wild scream, she tipped forward, bursting through the wispy haze, blue-white flames pouring from her boosters. Down between two Seekers she went, talons hooked forward, optics locked on her rapidly-descending target.

_Faster, faster, slaggit …_

Titanium talons crunched through red plating. Laser-fire slammed into her wings, white-hot pain lancing into her cortex.

And then they were tumbling into a long black hole. "Gotcha!" Skyfire cried out, zooming for safer lines.


	21. Exploring Solarflare

**Exploration-Solarflare  
**Featuring the Pokéformer.

"They tell me that your bondmate owns half of Cybertron," the strange Transformer remarked, leaning on the railing overlooking the ship's bridge. On-screen, the planet spun, all blue and green, with swatches of white, cotton candy clouds passing beneath them.

Flare merely shrugged. She was not interested in another discussion of their fortunes; it only caused trouble. The odd Transformer, with his red-blue-gold coloration, was undeterred. "No offense, lady," he offered. "Merely chitchat until we land."

She looked up at him, trying to find -- and got -- truth in his icy optics. "None taken," she replied non-comittally, turning back around to watch the planet. "Tell me, what am I supposed to be doing here again?"

"Your bondmate did not tell you?"

Flare frowned. "Not in so many words."

"I am to introduce you to my people in hopes of forging a trade with Cybertron."

She linked her hands over the rail, crest down. She was the least diplomatic of the two of them, and Mirage damn well knew it. Send Sideswipe or one of his lackeys -- they were used to this sort of thing. But her? No way, by Primus.

The other remained silent, and she was grateful for it. His form reminded her oddly of Laserbeak's and Buzzsaw's ... well, what they might have looked like, before that Maximal Rattrap had blown them up. But there was a grace, a mystical quality about him that she couldn't quite put a talon on.

"Do you like to explore, Lady Ligier?"

His question took her by surprise, especially with its swift change of subject. "I suppose," she replied slowly, unsure.

"Well, I gather you'd like my homeworld. We have many things to offer Cybertron." He looked at her with those otherworldly optics. "I hear you collect wildlife?"

It was a query she could not refuse -- found herself unable to. "I ... do. But not 'collect'. More of a sanctuary on our estate."

He grinned, avian-like, beak gaping. "Well, Lady Ligier, I believe you will enjoy ours. We call them Pokémon ..."


	22. On the Beach Solarflare

**On-the-Beach Solarflare  
**Featuring Chromedome.

Golden sand trickled gently from Solarflare's fingertips, flowed back onto the creamy beach of Oregon's quaint seacoast. She had so little time to herself these days, what with the construction of Autobot City taking up so much of their online hours. New troops were arriving almost daily to aid in the building, as well as provide additional support from the Decepticons. The air over the site was rife with tension, due to the fact the fight over Cybertron had somehow swung in the Decepticons' favor. Primus help them all, that this new city would shift the tide back to the Autobots.

As she stared over the calm blue Pacific Ocean, she let some of the fear that she'd been holding back over the last few months settle in the front of her cortex. What if ...

Her audios twitched. Instantly, she was on guard, rising from the sand with pistol in hand, wrist-launchers cocked and ready. In the next click, the signature of the Autobots flitted over her sensors, and she relaxed, lowering gun, hands and wings. The new Autobot loomed over the sand, peering down at her before transforming. Flare studied him, unable to put a name to the masked face. Not that she could half-remember all the new troops these days. Most of them had shoddy altmodes, and their basemodes looked nothing like them. Almost generic. Solarflare kept her opinions to herself, however, only speaking of it to Mirage, whenever they got to see each other.

The new mech hesitantly slid down the dune. "Are you Solarflare?"

"Aye."

"Sorry about scaring you. I'm Chromedome. Ultra Magnus sent me bring you back to base."

"Why?" She blinked, confused. Was there an attack?

Chromedome seemed a little confused as how to approach the avian femme. She idly wondered if he'd been made aware of her "origins" yet. "The other mech, Blaster? He got sent to Moonbase 2 to help set up the station there."

Flare sighed, then nodded her head. Peace and quiet, the late-night bashes in Portland ... they all seemed an age and a half away. War was in earnest here. "Thank you ... Chromedome was it?" He nodded. "Well, see you there." Transforming, Solarflare rose into the sky, leaving behind a befuddled mech and the golden beach.


	23. Bathtime Solarflare

**Bath-time Solarflare  
**Featuring … no one, you little pervs; I've spoiled you!

Its proper term was, truthfully, "the wash rack". However, during their stay on Earth, the Autobots of the Ark gave the bathing room far more colorful names, some of which were not for proper audios. Like the rest of the mountain-locked battle cruiser, it was horribly, painfully orange. When she had been human, Flare often wondered about the reason behind the color scheme, but no one had been forthcoming. So she stopped asking.

Covered from head to toe in slime, the grey femme trudged to the wash rack in the far corner, where she wouldn't be bothered (hopefully). Being the only feminine creature in an all-male military enclave had its perks at times, but when it came to bathing, she wanted her privacy. A long-handled brush hung from the showerhead; special Transformer soap sat in a small container on the shelf. Stepping into the stall, Flare grimaced at the amount of sludge that was oozing from her plating. Someone – probably Gears – would be complaining about the low water pressure later, but right now, she could care less. As far as she knew, no one else had taken a head-first shitter into a swamp while trying to dodge lone Seeker fire.

Flare sniffed the air experimentally, and decided it would be in her best interest to try and shut off her olfactory sensors if she was going to get through the first phase without hurling her oil into the drain. Then she remembered she couldn't do that. _Slag_.

In she went, gunk, grime and various aquatic wildlife still clinging to her armor. The first blast of volcano-heated water threw up the funkiest, most malodorous smell she'd ever been hit with. Coughing, Flare covered her nose with one hand and slapped the shelf for her soap. Immediately, she began throwing it on her head, hoping the steam would react with the perfume and clear the air.

_Ugh. I feel like … mud on a tread._

Experimentally, she lowered her hand and sniffed. Okay, it was a little better; Solarflare grabbed the container and forced every bit of product into her hands, smothering her poor frame with it. Then she grabbed her brush and went to town.

"PRIMUS! WHAT IS THAT SMELL!"

Solarflare bit her lip; oh, slag. Hopefully the steam gave her anonymity; regardless, she slunk into the furthest corner of the stall, and prayed to be done quickly.


	24. Disheveled Solarflare

**Disheveled Solarflare  
**Solo

_Ow_.

Lying on your back, staring up at the foliage was a nice way to spend one's off-hours, but not when you just crashed through the trees to save your ass. Golden motes of light danced in the air, mottling Solarflare's grey plating, bits and pieces of branches and leaves poking out all over the place.

"Ughnn." She rocked forward, trying to roll over. A stick the size of her thigh was wedged tight between her left wing joint and side. "That's not pretty," she commented wryly. "Big Poppa Ratchet's gonna have my pinions."

Giving up, she lay back down and concentrated her energies on a tight homing beacon. When they picked her up, there was going to be some razzing. She could smell it. "I hate my life," she grumbled. At least the Seekers were gone.


	25. Exhausted Solarflare

**Exhausted Solarflare  
**Solo

She surveyed the green landscape with a taloned hand shading her optics; there were a few more trees to plant, freshly imported from the great California forests, as well as those squirrels and rabbits still sitting in Iacon's Main Tower quarantine. (For the life of her, Flare couldn't figure out why metallic beings needed to use quarantine, but they told her it was just a safety precaution.) Sure, sure; they just wanted to oogle Earth life and talk about how scrambled the circuits of the premier noblemech's bondmate were.

A low breath jetted from her ventilators. Regardless, she'd made excellent progress. Tomorrow, Grapple and Hoist would be coming over to work on the miniature waterfall and the pond. The koi were scheduled to arrive sometime next week, along with the songbirds. It was all coming together so beautifully, but slag, if she wasn't tired!

Solarflare glanced around and found that they still hadn't unpacked the ornate benches from Sunstreaker's shop. Oh well; she could make due with anything. Flopping onto the ground, she pillowed her head on her arms, staring up at the newly rebuilt Iacon Tower skyline. Golden spires, silver and crystal minarets punctuated the horizon, each trying to out-do the other. It was a life she was still trying to adjust to, having come off almost two hundred years of all-out warfare, but it was probably more of a stretch for her comrades, who had been battling for over nine million years. Being the bondmate of the most successful elite to rise from the ashes of oblivion gave her a certain status, one that she was still trying to come to terms with. As a human, she'd grown up in middle-class society, never coming close to fabulous wealth. Now, she had everything she could ever want.

_But I have everything_, she thought sleepily, optics fluttering as her system advised her to rest and recharge. Mirage and their two sparklings. That was all she needed. This … just perks.

Stifling a yawn, Solarflare rolled over and gazed at their new home, the one that they would be moving into permanently once everything was done. Just the landscaping and the finishing tweaks on the interhouse security system, as far as she knew.

Servos aching, Flare gave into exhaustion and fell into a blissful recharge.


	26. Well Shagged Solarflare

**Well-Shagged Solarflare  
**Featuring Mirage

Faint traces of shared pleasure flowed between them through the thick cord. Languidly, Flare rose up on one elbow and gently traced the Face of Primus on Mirage's chest. The spy cracked one sky blue optic and gave a mock groan.

"I surrender, Little One, no more."

Purring, she reached out and tweaked his nasal ridge, but having never removed her talon-tip from his chest. Up it went, past his neck guard, across his stately chin, then onto his nose. A long, shuddering sigh wracked the Ligier's chest, and if he'd had organic eyes, they would have rolled up into his skull.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" she teased.

He groaned again, fingers fluttering along the length of cord that connected them. "Uhnng … many times."

"That you're the sexiest thing I've ever seen?"

The spy blinked, turning his head slightly to nip at her fingertip. "In so many words," he replied hoarsely, running his tongue over her talon.

Levering herself over his body, she looked down into his pharonic face: grey features framed by an iconic blue helm. "How much do you love me?"

Feebly, Mirage tried to shift away, but it was all in play. "Enough to do you again, once I can feel my lower extremities. I think you drained my auxiliaries, Flare."

"Good." Leaning over, she pressed her charcoal lips against his grey ones. She could see it in his optics – the need, the desire, to join with her again. But he just _couldn't_. Truthfully, she needed a rest, too. Lowering her frame, she hitched herself under his arm, tucking her chin against his throat latch, quiescent.


	27. Kick Ass Solarflare

**Kick-Ass Solarflare  
**Featuring Sunstreaker … with Arcee, Strata, Oasis, Wingblade, Quarrel and Mesmerize

"That's not how you do it, ladies!"

Solarflare paused outside the training room of Autobot City, drawn by the very un-Sunstreaker-like reprimand. Inside the large practice ring was the great golden warrior, surrounded by the six new femmes. Maybe he was being facetious, or setting them up for when he really got upset. Though, she doubted they would understand that "bitch" was a slanderous remark. "Slab-sided cyberwhore" would be more in line with their cortexes; or, "pipe-suckers".

"Flare! Get your feathered aft up here and show these newbies how to do it."

Caught unawares, she drew up against the wall, crest flat. "No, thanks, Sunny. I'll pass on this one." Was it her imagination, or did that short-shafted glider-femme smirk? Primus, if she could only get her hands on her … _Punishment detail_, her conscious reminded her dutifully. Sullenly, Flare had to agree; and the senior femme losing face because of a newbie didn't sit well with her, either.

Sunstreaker banged his practice staff hard on the floor. "NOW!"

Frowning, Solarflare stared back defiantly. "I'm off-duty; I was just passing through."

Psychosis bubbled up behind the melee warrior's blue optics. "Do me a favor, girl, and get your ass up here, before I come over and hand it to you." The staff clattered to the floor, rolling to the edge of the ring; then, it fell off, coming to a precise halt at her feet.

_"Thanks a lot,"_ she sent on a tight band. "Coming, Sunshine," she replied dutifully.

_"Gotta show these chicks that I don't play games,"_ he sent in return, taking a staff from the pink femme, Arcee. "Now, mirror me."

Bending over, she picked up the discarded staff and walked over to the ring, easily slipping under the ropes, wings and all. Standing before Sunstreaker, she held up her staff in the exact same manner as he did. Then it began.

Whatever move Sunny made, she copied it. She might not have been exact, as Sideswipe was, but to the untrained optic, or a mech/femme unfamiliar with Ark warriors, it was perfection. They went through a few sets before Sunstreaker lashed out, catching her between right strut and neck guard. Flare bit back a keen of pain and went on the offensive. Back and forth, side to side, they canvassed the ring, each scoring more than a dozen hits on the other. Out of the corner of her optic, Flare could see a subtle shift in the femmes' stances: Arcee, Wingblade and Quarrel were leaning forward, obviously taken in; Strata and Mesmerize were trying in vain to stop from staring; Oasis, though aloof, could not conceal the surprise in her optics.

Throughout the ordeal, Sunstreaker was shouting, teaching, as each blow was landed or avoided. He ended his tutorial by effectively sweeping Flare's feet from under her and planting his heavy foot in the middle of her chest.

"And that, ladies, is what I expect from you. No prancing, no fluttering – just plain, unadulterated prowess. No Decepticon afthead is going to go easy on you, as I'm sure you know. Now, one by one, you'll try and duplicate what the flaming bird here has mastered. ARCEE! Up, you frilly pink servobot."

_"Can I get up now?"_ Flare sent from the floor.

Grinning his death's head grin, Sunstreaker lifted the pole, and held out his hand to her. _"Kick ass, girly."_

Rolling her optics, Flare secretly had to agree.


	28. Playing with Kids Solarflare

**Playing with Kids Solarflare  
**Featuring Spectrum and Illusion

These days, Autobot City looked more like a center for learning, rather than the huge battle fortress as it had been constructed not too long ago. A school for children whose parents wanted them to learn about peaceful Cybertron had been set up on the outskirts; along with the school came a playground, complete with several Autobot-sized pieces, which were currently being occupied by the only two spark-fusion Transformers around: the mech, Spectrum, and the femme, Illusion – created by Mirage and Solarflare.

The grey femme, Solarflare, stood behind both of her children, giving them gentle pushes in the lower back as they played on the swing set. She was grinning from audio to audio as the two shrieked in pleasure, urging her to go higher and higher.

"To Cybertron, Momma!" Illusion, the younger of the two, cried out, her tiny legs pumping with youthful energy.

Flare laughed. "All right, here we go!" She gave a larger shove, and up the little femme went, screaming with laughter.

"When is Daddy coming back, Momma?" the more serious Spectrum asked.

"Soon, sweetheart."

"Will he bring us presents?" Illusion squeaked. "Like your pretty scarves?"

Grinning, Flare reached out and ruffled her daughter's small crest. "Daddy gets those from Italy, not Cybertron."

"A hoverboard! Like Jake has!" Spectrum crowed.

"No! Wings like Momma!" Illusion pressed.

"I'm sure Daddy has something for each of you that you'll like very much," Flare chuckled, peering up at the huge bulk of Autobot City. It was hard to believe that the great sentinel was in stand-down mode, after all this time. But with moments like this, she was even more grateful for the peace. Yes, it was good.


	29. BONUS: Mentor Solarflare

**Mentor Solarflare  
**Featuring Flamestrike, requested by Tyrrlin

From the start, Flare liked this tall, lanky femme; she had a clean, honest grey face, as well as an affable manner. So, naturally, she was more than willing to mentor the newcomer, more so than the other femmes that had recently arrived on Earth. Unlike the others, Flamestrike had chosen an unconventional altmode, a chimaera called a _gryphon_. That fact alone, if she had not been made aware of Flamestrike's personality beforehand, would have sent the avian femme streaking to her side. The Autobots were in dire need of more animal-based warriors.

"Rather … green," Flamestrike remarked quietly, perched on a rock overlooking the valley outside Autobot City. She chewed the word, as if Cybertronian had no comparable term to describe what she was seeing.

"Green, blue, brown, gold … and much more," Solarflare conceded, fanning her wings. "You'll get used to it – and probably want to stay after this is over."

Flamestrike's golden beak drew down in uncertainty. "How can you be sure? I mean, I know you've been down here a long time, but …"

Flare shrugged. "Never hurts to have hope."

Tan metallic hindquarters shifted, and a flame-colored bladed tail tip tapped against the stone. "No, I suppose not." Flamestrike gazed out over the valley.

"It'll get easier," Solarflare urged, trying to buoy the other femme's spirits.

"That's what Elita told us, back on Cybertron. We scraped and scrimped all over the planet, won battles, lost battles. Things look pretty bleak back there, but I'm sure you know that already."

Flare tilted her head. Apparently she hadn't been indoctrinated. Flamestrike looked at her. "Where did you come from, anyway? Not with our band. One of the other rebels?"

"I never came from Cybertron," she offered up, wondering why she felt so free with her personal information with this femme. Succinctly, she told Flamestrike her tale, watching the other femme's green optics go wide in her avian-feline face.

"Wow," Flamestrike breathed, flexing her red pinions. "I guess Optimus Prime chose right, when he asked you to mentor me. You're a native."

Flare beak-grinned. "Of a sorts. Now, are you ready to flex those wings of yours? I'm going to take you on a quick loop. We have to be careful, though, Megatron's Seekers have been spotted in the area lately."

Flamestrike rose and stretched, arching her back, catlike. "Ready when you are!"

With a cry, Flare launched her grey-white-black body into the air, followed closely behind by a bounding Flamestrike.


End file.
